Chapter Text
Park Jinyoung is having a terrible day.
He stays up too late the previous night working on a story, and by the time he's nearly beheading himself on his dresser in an attempt to disentangle himself from the bedsheets after waking up in a panic, he's already missed the bus. He has to go to work, and he frantically tries to get ready without making it look obvious that he woke up late; he throws on clothes hanging off the back of a chair and doesn't stop to check to see if they're clean or dirty. He'll have to change into his uniform, anyway, and he pulls on his shoes by the door with one hand as he grabs his messenger bag with the other. Missing the bus wouldn't be so terrible if his bike didn't have a flat tire, and he spends the next hour of the morning waiting for another bus kicking himself for not getting it fixed and replaying his conversation with Jackson over and over in his head—
"Get your bike fixed, Jinyoungie."
"I'll be fine. I barely ride it anyway, I always take the bus."
"What happens when you miss the bus?"
He had laughed then. "I never miss the bus."
Stupid. So, so stupid.
When the bus finally shows up, he's already an hour late for work. He looks through his messenger bag for his phone to call them at the restaurant, and deflates visibly when the line just rings and rings and no one answers. They must be busy. Tack on the commute to the restaurant and he'll be almost an hour and a half late, if traffic is forgiving. Adding on to the time is the five minutes he spends digging around his messenger bag for his bus pass, which he then remembers he had left on his bedside table. The bus driver, familiar with him now to the point where they ask about each other's families, takes pity on him, letting him on the bus without swiping his card. Almost an hour and a half later, he nearly falls through the glass front doors of the restaurant when he trips on a rock. Face burning with embarrassment, he doesn't look up at all the eyes on him as he hurriedly makes his way to the staff room at the back of the restaurant.
Finally at work after being nearly two hours late, he pushes the door open to the staff room. Sweat is pouring down his back, sticking his thin dress shirt to his skin in the same way his hair is plastered to his forehead. Their head chef, Mark, is sprawled in one of the armchairs on the side of the room, a sandwich halfway to his mouth that he drops in surprise when Jinyoung comes in.
"Jinyoung?" he says, picking up his sandwich where it landed on his apron, leaving crumbs all over the white material. Seeming to notice Jinyoung's condition, he grins widely. "You're so sweaty. Did you run here?"
Jinyoung makes a face at him. "No, but today has been a real disaster so far. I missed the bus, my bike has a flat tire—"
"Still?" Mark asks, mouth full, and Jinyoung shoots him a look as he opens his assigned locker and looks in it, heart dropping when he realizes his uniform isn't hanging up. He usually leaves it in his locker for a while, since it rarely gets dirty, but then a vivid image of his uniform crumpled on his bathroom floor where he'd shucked it after a particularly terrible shift flashes through this mind. He drops his head heavily against the cold blue metal.
"First I wake up late and miss the bus, then I leave my bus pass at home, no one answers when I call, I almost trip coming in the front door, I'm two hours late, and it doesn't even matter because I forgot my uniform." He's not trying to be dramatic, but he really can't help it—if the day gets any worse he's never going to get out of bed again.
Mark just laughs at him. "Do you need it?"
Sighing, Jinyoung slams his locker shut, messenger bag still around his middle. "Of course I need it. I can't work in this." He gestures to the wrinkled, salmon-colored material of his dress shirt where it sticks to him uncomfortably and is haphazardly tucked in to his khaki pants.
"You don't even work today."
Jinyoung's brow furrows. "Yes I do. I work from 2 to 9 today."
Mark's eyebrows raise, a frustratingly handsome smile plastered on his face. Jinyoung wishes he wouldn't be so charming all the time so that he could be annoyed. "You don't have a shift until Friday."
He feels his face start to redden in embarrassment as the realization sinks in. "Today's not Friday?"
Across the room, Mark laughs, high pitched and loud. His dishwater blonde hair falls in his eyes when he leans forward, slapping his knee. "How late did you stay up, Jinyoungie?"
Jinyoung wants to melt into the floor. He has a feeling Mark is right, and he goes to look at the schedule posted on the bulletin board by the fridge. His heart sinks when he sees that he, in fact, doesn't work until Friday. Now that he knows, he realizes Mark is right—it's barely Wednesday. Groaning softly, Jinyoung closes his eyes and lets his head drop against the cork board as Mark giggles gleefully behind him. Can this day get any worse?
It can, so it does.
After saying goodbye to Mark and walking quickly through the dining area with his head down, he walks a few blocks away to his favorite coffee shop. Having a whole day suddenly free after the chaos of the morning should be relieving to him, but it isn't—he doesn't know what to do, and without his laptop, he's woefully unprepared to sit around at the coffee shop and act like he's working on something.
But he goes anyway, and the barista is happy to see him. She types in his order before he can even say anything, and she asks how his day's been to fill the silence as he pulls out his credit card. Blessedly and thankfully that's one thing he didn't mess up that morning.
"It's been insane," he tells her, slipping it back into his shirt pocket as he leans on the counter. "I woke up late thinking I had to work but I got all the way to the restaurant and realized I didn't even have to be there at all."
Clucking her tongue and shaking her head, she grins at him. After a moment, she puts a lid on his drink and slides it across the counter. "Go sit. If I can get someone to cover me, I'll come talk for a while."
"Thanks, noona," Jinyoung says, and smiles. It's relieving, at least, that the day is finally going alright.
Which is, of course, the exact moment he realizes that his shoe is untied when he turns to take a step forward and goes careening into the person behind him.
He yelps unwittingly as he feels his shoelace catch underneath his other foot, and the suddenness of the stop has him automatically throwing both hands out to keep himself from going face first into the black tile floor. The coffee in his right hand loses its lid when he accidentally squeezes the cup, and then there's hot liquid splashing out and down his wrist. He yelps again, dropping the hot coffee entirely, catching himself on the jacket of the person behind him before he falls. He looks down at the ground, realizing that his hot coffee is a) completely gone now and he's going to have to pay for a new one and b) it has completely and utterly soaked the expensive looking leather shoes of the man who had been standing behind him in line.
In horror, he looks up at the man's face before realizing he's still holding onto his jacket, and he hastily lets go. The man is watching him with a mixture of fury and disbelief—his mouth is open like he wanted to say something, but can't find the words to say how stupid Jinyoung is. We can agree on that, at least, Jinyoung thinks to himself, and the longer he looks at the man's face in a shocked embarrassment he realizes that the man is quite handsome. It's almost as if life asked how can this be even worse, and then decided that the day Jinyoung spills coffee on someone, that someone is hot. Dark hair that looks expensively cut is styled messily across his forehead, falling just above piercing dark eyes with two angel's kisses above the left one. Silver jewelry shines in two spots on each ear, looking infinitely more expensive than Jinyoung could ever imagine, probably. He's not trying to appraise the guy, especially not after he tripped into him, but after taking in the sharp jawline and the long, unmarked neck does Jinyoung realize that the coffee he dropped has also completely soaked the front of the man's suit. Which is, by the looks of the rest of him, probably something stupid expensive. Like Gucci.
"Shit," Jinyoung says, and looks back up to the man's face.
He flinches automatically when the guy raises a hand, and he's ashamed when the man notices and his gaze flickers over Jinyoung questioningly before he palms the material of his suit.
That is now soaked in coffee.
Because of Jinyoung.
" 'Shit' ?" He says, deep voice colored in disbelief. Jinyoung feels himself redden all the way to his ears and he's really considering running from the coffee shop and never coming back. "That's all?"
"Sorry! Sorry," Jinyoung says in a rush, wishing the floor would just open up, swallow him whole, and never spit him back out. "I'm so sorry—"
The guy touches a hand to the front of the dark grey suit jacket, stained almost black with the coffee Jinyoung spilled on him. Almost all of his fingers are adorned with heavy rings that flash in the overhead lights of the coffee shop, and Jinyoung turns away to grab napkins off the counter before the man can say anything else to him. The people who had been standing in line behind the guy in the suit had disappeared, probably wanting to avoid the drama that was bound to unfold. Which, as Jinyoung crouches down to mop up the coffee on the floor, he thinks of how good of an idea it was and that he should have followed suit. He thinks it's an especially good idea when the man nudges Jinyoung's exposed ankle with his shoe.
"Clean these off too."
Jinyoung looks up at the man in utter disbelief, paper towels falling from his hand with a wet plop. "Excuse me?"
The man just looks at him, beautiful eyebrows raised. "What else are you going to do? Since you've ruined my suit and my shoes."
Jinyoung bristles. He hadn't expected the guy to not be mad—after all, Jinyoung did get coffee all over him. But Jinyoung prides himself on his gentleness with strangers, and most situations akin to this one are met with an equally as gentle sort of forgiveness. So when the (very pretty) man covered in coffee just watches him with a brusque expectancy, it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. He grimaces at the guy, and Jinyoung picks up the paper towels.
"This isn't the 1700s. I'm not gonna clean your shoes for you."
"Saying sorry isn't going to get the coffee stains out of this suit," the guy says, looking angry.
Now he's annoyed. Jinyoung stands up, turning away to throw the wet paper towels in the trash as he says, "no, but a dry cleaner probably will."
"What?"
The guy looks pissed now, and despite it being a little terrifying, Jinyoung has to really force himself not to crack a smile. The situation is technically his fault, but he's never had someone demand for him to clean his shoes like a servant, either, so he thinks the wisecrack was a little warranted. "Take it to a dry cleaner's. That's what they're for."
He rolls his eyes. "Are you going to pay for it?"
It's not that he can't afford it--between being at the restaurant for so long and the tips he gets, he makes enough money to live comfortably while also paying off student loans. With the guy's attitude, though, he really doesn't want to. "Should I?"
Seeming to give it a thought, the man stares at him for a moment before making a noise of disgust. "No. Forget about it."
Jinyoung can't help but be a little surprised: only moments ago, the handsome guy he spilled his coffee all over was demanding that Jinyoung clean his shoes (leather shoes, with a paper towel? He's probably never cleaned his own shoes in his life if he thinks that's how it works) but is letting him skimp out on paying for the dry cleaning? Maybe this day isn't going too terribly after all.
Seemingly dismissed, Jinyoung waves to the barista before leaving the coffee shop. There's a bus stop right outside that, thankfully, goes to the stop just outside his apartment, and he sits down on the bench to wait for the bus. After a few moments, he can't stop thinking about the guy's face--he's easily the most handsome guy Jinyoung's ever seen, and Jinyoung was a complete idiot and spilled his coffee all over him. Groaning audibly, he puts his face in his hands. He was a dick, sure, but he was hot , and Jinyoung totally made an ass out of himself. Not just in front of him, but the people at the coffee shop, too, whom he sees almost every day. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and calls Jackson.
"Hello, Jinyoungie," he answers after a few rings, voice a little muffled under the sound of the wind.
"Where are you?"
"Walking to Yugyeom's," he says, and there's a ton of traffic noise that almost cuts off his reply. "Why, where are you?"
"I'm outside the coffee shop." He sighs, slumping back against the wall of the bus stop. "I did something embarrassing."
"Oh, no."
"First of all, this day has been a complete disaster. I woke up late for work, and I spent twenty minutes freaking out and trying to throw something together so that I could catch the bus, and then realized that I had missed the bus entirely. Then I had to wait for an hour for another bus to come--"
Jackson interrupts him, voice sing-songy. "Not if you had fixed your bike."
"Shut up," he says, but not unkindly. "Anyway, so I'm almost two hours late to the restaurant, and I get there and Mark tells me I don't even work today. So I leave and go to the coffee shop, where everything is going fine, until I trip and spill my entire coffee on the guy standing behind me in line."
Even over the sound of traffic in the background, he can hear Jackson burst into hysterical laughter. "No. The whole cup?"
Jackson can't see him, but he grimaces anyway. "Yes. The whole cup."
"Oh that's--" Jackson stops, voice suddenly serious. "Wait. Oh, no. Was he hot?"
Deflating further and wishing he could just sink into the floor of the bus stop and through the crust of the earth, he sighs. "Yes, he was hot. Very hot, actually. The hottest guy I've ever seen."
"Bold statement."
"It's true, though." Jinyoung turns around, phone pressed to his ear. Through the gaps in the grating on the wall of the bus stop, he can see into the large window to the tables of the coffee shop, and he looks to see if the hot guy is still in there. "He was kind of a dick though. Actually, he was a huge dick. He told me to clean his leather shoes with a paper towel."
Jackson snorts. "Hot and an idiot."
"Truly," Jinyoung agrees, and his eyes sweep the patrons again before finally finding the guy. He almost screams when he realizes the guy is staring straight at him, the same pissed off look on his face from before. Jinyoung turns around hastily, pressing his back into the wall and praying like hell the bus shows up. "Shit, he saw me."
"You're still there? After you spilled coffee on him?"
"No! I'm at the bus stop outside."
There's a moment of commotion on the other end of the line that ends in Jackson cursing someone out with all the filthy English words he knows. "Sorry. Anyway, you're outside and he's still watching you?"
"I guess," Jinyoung says, leaning forward and rejoicing internally when he sees the bus coming up the street. "I turned around to see if he was still there and we made eye contact, so now I'm waiting for the bus to pick up speed so I can throw myself in front of it."
"Huh. Hot, an idiot, and creepy. Sounds like your type."
"That's not true."
Jackson laughs again. "Also, don't be dramatic. This probably won't be the first time you spill coffee on the hottest person you've ever seen."
"Shut up."
_____________
Needless to say, Jackson won't let him live it down.
They're just hanging out on their mutual off day, Jackson lounging on his small bed on his back with some shitty tabloid magazine open above his face. The silence between them is comfortable, and Jinyoung is trying to write a little bit when he hears Jackson sigh and drop the tabloid. He puts down his pen and turns around in his chair, laughing when he sees Jackson laying very still on his bed with the magazine over his face.
"What?"
Jackson lifts up the magazine, closing it and letting it drop to the floor just because he knows Jinyoung hates it. "Remember when you spilled coffee on that guy?"
Jinyoung groans, leaning back in his chair. "Get over it already! It was a week ago."
Flipping over, Jackson looks at him gleefully. "Yeah, but it's hilarious. Stuff like that never happens to you."
"What's that supposed to mean?" He doesn't think Jackson was trying to insult him, but he's offended anyway.
The older boy snorts, shaking his bleached blonde hair out of his eyes. Jinyoung is impressed by (and slightly envious of) how good it looks on him. "Stuff like this just never happens to you. Your adolescence was so cut and dry. School was fine, you got really hot--"
Jinyoung makes a face at this. "Thanks."
Continuing as if he hasn't spoken, Jackson says, "--you went to college, dated a little, got a degree, and now you have a fun job at a restaurant with cool people and you live in a cool apartment. Shenanigans don't happen to you the way they happen to, say, me. Or Yugyeom."
Knowing Jackson for over half his life really helps in not strangling him when he says things like this. Jackson's life has always been a little more wild than his--in high school, and even into college, Jackson was always Mr. Popular and always had everyone's absolute undivided attention (including his). Jackson's parents were more accepting of his decision to come to Korea, even after he went to international school in Hong Kong and had all the skills to do something potentially important. But, to Jackson, just making people laugh was important and fulfilling, and despite their apprehension for him, they always gave in. And their friendship has always been strong--when Jinyoung's parents were the exact opposite of Jackson's, always disapproving of everything he did and telling him he could be better, Jackson was always there to put a smile on his face. But because of the pressure from his parents, Jinyoung didn't feel...welcome. The parties, the trips--Jinyoung was so focused on trying to do one thing so well that he wouldn't risk making a mistake at all.
The sudden roller coaster of thoughts makes his chest hurt. He doesn't really want to think about this right now, so Jinyoung just forces a grin and rolls his eyes. "I don't want the kinds of things that happen to Yugyeom to happen to me."
"Why not! They're fun."
"Jackson, I don't think that getting black out drunk in Seoul and ending up almost getting arrested at the Incheon airport for chasing a goat onto the tarmac can be considered 'fun'."
"Okay, okay, okay," Jackson says, sitting up and folding his legs underneath him. "But you've got to admit, your life is pretty boring."
Jinyoung scoffs. "Rude. My life is perfectly fine."
"Whatever. Just accept that you spilling a hot coffee all over a sexy rich guy in your favorite coffee shop and ruining his suit will always be funny to me and that I'll never forget and never let you live it down for as long as I live."
His heart isn't really in it, but Jinyoung cracks a smile as Jackson erupts in gleeful giggles as he ducks out of the way at the pen Jinyoung throws at his head.
____________
True to his word, Jackson doesn't let him live it down, but at least he's stopped telling their friends three weeks after it happened. Bambam just felt bad for him—"That's awful, I can't believe you didn't die of embarrassment" —while, as expected, Wild Yugyeom thought it was the funniest thing ever. Much like Jackson, Yugyeom teased him senselessly about it until it got a little old, and now Jinyoung can finally let the memory die.
Saturdays at the restaurant are always the busiest, and he feels like he and Bambam have been there for hours already when the dinner rush barely starts. Meeting in the kitchen to take a breather before going to check back in their tables, they collapse together against the giant, steel door of the meat locker.
"Is it always this busy?" Bambam asks, whining slightly. He's still relatively new, but his cute face and shamelessly friendly nature makes him one of the best servers they have. Jinyoung, being head server, approves of him immensely.
Jinyoung grins, elbowing him a little. "You ask that every weekend."
"That's because every weekend feels busier than the last."
Before Jinyoung can answer, the owner walks in and immediately finds them with his eyes. The both of them scramble to stand up straight and give him a polite bow, and Jinyoung can feel himself reddening a little at having been caught slacking off by the owner. However, the owner has always doted on the two of them (almost suffocatingly so—there hasn't been a holiday where his sunbaenim hasn't called him to wish him well), and he just smiles.
"Hello, boys. Have you been well?"
They both nod, with Bambam getting less nervous and immediately falling into nice, friendly chatter. It's both frustrating and convenient that the owner has the same name as him: there's been many a time where Jinyoung's taken angry calls from people who think he's the owner. Sometimes, if he's feeling feisty, he'll pretend to be him and just hang up.
He almost doesn't realize that he's being asked a question. "I'm sorry, Park Jinyoung sunbaenim . Can you say that again?"
The older man just smiles at him. "I asked if you were up for serving the Room tonight."
His heart sinks. Their restaurant, one of the biggest and nicest in Seoul, has been home to every business meeting under the sun. The fanciness of the decor and the strict formal dress code makes it a prime place for business, and the addition of a private dining room toward the back of the restaurant that's available by reservation only had that increasing tenfold. Getting to serve the Room is both a blessing and a curse: generally the business people tip well (Jinyoung's walked out with 700,000 won in cash in his pocket before), but there's a certain level of servitude involved in being assigned to the Room that makes Jinyoung feel less like a public service worker and more like a butler. Not to mention having to listen to all the drab, technical business speak over the sounds of rich people talking with their mouths full.
His whole body screams at him not to do it: he's supposed to be off in three hours, but if the Room's guests were just seated, he could be here for a lot longer than that. He opens his mouth to offer it to Bambam when he hears himself say, "of course, sunbaenim. It would be my pleasure."
"Fantastic! I'll go let them know that their server will be right with them." The older man reaches out to pat Jinyoung affectionately on the shoulder. Jinyoung smiles, if a little awkwardly, until he turns to walk away.
Once his back is turned and he leaves the kitchen area, Jinyoung deflates. Bambam grabs his arm dramatically. "Oh my god, why did I say yes?"
Bambam laughs, letting go of his arm and straightening his apron. "Mostly because Park Jinyoung sunbae loves you, but also because you don't hate me enough to give me the Room on a Saturday night."
Jinyoung pouts, only grumbling in his direction as a response. Laughing, Bambam reaches out and pats his shoulder in a mockery of the owner just a few moments ago. "You can do this, Jinyoung hyung."
"I know I can," he says, standing up straight and smoothing down the front of his stark, black apron. "I just don't want to."
"Just wait until you walk out of their with your month's rent in cash. Then you won't hate it so much."
With a grin, he lightly shoves Bambam towards the swinging doors that lead toward the dining room. When the younger boy disappears through them and leaves him alone in the kitchen, he drops the smile and breathes in deep, smoothing out his features into a look that can be both charming and professional all at once. He turns to check his hair in the reflection of the steel door, and can't help but laugh at himself a little when he realizes how ridiculous he's being. Making sure his order pad is in his front apron pocket, he makes his way out the swinging doors and down the hallway to the Room.
The hallway outside is dimly lit, whether to add ambiance against the dark red paint on the walls or just because Park Jinyoung sunbae wants to save on electricity, he doesn't know. His shoes are near silent on the dark carpet as he approaches, and once he's outside he can hear the low murmur of voices inside the room. Taking a deep breath, he turns the ornate gold doorknob inlaid into the heavy, dark oak and slips into the room.
It's not a big room, and it looks even smaller than it really is due to the long, oak dining table bisecting it down the middle. The interior is exactly like the hallway outside: near/black carpet, deep red walls, and soft lighting set in large, glass candelabras along the sides of the room. Above the table is an ornate chandelier, made entirely of glass and inlaid with diamonds. It's completely over the top, but Park Jinyoung sunbae was so excited to install it that Jinyoung doesn't have to heart to tell him how gaudy it looks.
There's not as many people as usual: only seven men are seated at the far end of the table, chatting to each other lightly and still looking at their menus. From where he's standing against the far wall, it's a little difficult to see their faces, but by the way light reflects off cuff links and watches he knows they must be serious businessmen. None of them have so much as looked in his direction and that's fine by him. He watches them talk amongst themselves for a while longer, wondering if, by some miracle, he'll get out of work at a decent hour and can maybe meet up with Jackson. Sighing inwardly, he gears up to be disgustingly polite as he steps forward toward the table.
"Hello," he says, immediately gaining all of their attention with his formal greeting. Jinyoung bows politely, hands folded against his abdomen. Looking around at them, he sees that they're all the pretty standard type of business men: middle aged, greying, polite but not excessively friendly. "My name is Park Jinyoung and I'll be your—"
"Yah," a voice says at his elbow, and there's suddenly an eighth person in the room. The deep voice, vaguely familiar, makes him jump in surprise. Flustered, Jinyoung puts a hand over his heart to try and steady the rapid beating of it, and he turns to address the man who had so rudely interrupted him.
Despite the dimness of the room, their eyes meet almost immediately and Jinyoung feels like he's been electrocuted. It's the handsome guy from the coffee shop, and he feels himself lose the color in his face as he recognizes him. Jinyoung prays it's not actually him, that it's just someone with equally as nicely styled hair and beautifully strong eyebrows and two tiny, delicate moles above his eyes, but then the man is looking at him with something akin to disbelief. "You're the guy who spilled coffee on me a few weeks ago. Aren't you?"
He has every opportunity in the world to lie. Really, he should—it would make this dinner go by faster, probably, if he wasn't being heckled every two minutes about ruining some rich asshole's weekday Versace suit. He wants to lie, in fact, something that he never does, because Jinyoung knows that as soon he tells Jackson he ended up having to serve the guy he spilled coffee all over, he's going to have a field day with it. Clearing his throat, Jinyoung opens his mouth to tell the lie of the century and is immensely disappointed with himself when he says politely,
"Yes."
Aish.
The man opens his mouth to say something, but then one of the older men at the table is standing up. "Jaebum-ssi!" he says, opening his long arms in greeting as he comes over. So, the handsome guy's name is Jaebum. At least he has something to tell Jackson so that they can stop referring to him as Sexy Coffee Shop Guy or Hot Coffee Man. The thought of the nicknames has him cracking a small smile, and Jaebum narrows his eyes. But before he can say anything, the older man is stepping in between them and guiding Jaebum to a seat with an arm around his shoulders, talking lowly. Jinyoung is staunchly relieved.
After asking him if they can have another few moments to decide, Jinyoung bows politely and pretends like he can't feel Jaebum's angry stare on his back as he leaves the room. He hurries down the hallway toward the staff room, on the verge of breaking into a cold sweat by the time he finally gets to his locker and wrestles his cellphone out of his messenger bag. Checking to make sure none of his bosses are around (though, with how long he's been working here and how much they all love him, he doubts they would mind), he sends a quick text to Jackson and prays he's not away from his phone.
Jackson. That guy is here.
He gets lucky when the typing bubble shows up, and Jackson's reply comes a few seconds later.
Who?
Coffee shop guy.
THE HOT ONE? Jinyoung can practically hear Jackson yelling.
Yes, he types back quickly. His name is Jaebum.
Ooooh. Sexy~
Jinyoung makes a face at his phone. Ha, ha. I'm their server
Jackson's reply takes a little bit longer this time, and Jinyoung anxiously taps his toe on the hard tile of the staff room while he waits. Finally his phone chimes, and he looks down at it.
You have to serve him now? Don't spill anything on him again kekekekekek
Sighing and rolling his eyes, he reads the message and locks his phone back in his locker, regretting even bothering to tell Jackson at all. He absentmindedly messes around in the staff room for a little bit longer, giving the businessmen in the Room more time to decide so that, hopefully, he can go put their orders in and be that much closer to getting off work. Not that putting in their orders is going to free him of them entirely: on his way back, he stops by the kitchen to grab the drink cart. The glasses on top rattle quietly as he wheels it down the hallway, nodding to some of the other servers when he passes them near the kitchen.
"Serving the Room tonight, huh?" One of them asks, and Jinyoung recognizes him as one of the weekend staff members.
Jinyoung nods. "Yeah."
The guy just barks a laugh, which surprises him. "I'd be careful, if I were you."
Does this guy know he spilled coffee on Jaebum, too? "What does that mean?"
"One of the guys in there is like, one of the richest dudes in South Korea. From what I heard, anyway. And I heard he's a real..." the guy trails off, struggling to find a word.
Deflating, Jinyoung thinks he knows who he might be talking about. "Asshole?"
Giving him a finger gun, the weekend server clicks his tongue. "You said it, not me. Good luck!" And then he's disappearing back into the dining room, leaving Jinyoung alone in the hallway with an entire rack of expensive wine older than he is.
He sighs.
So far, everything is going fine. When he goes back into the room with the drink cart, all the men are excited to finally have wine to drink, and while some of them make polite small talk as he pours their drinks, they mostly talk amongst themselves. The only issue is when he gets to Jaebum, who's sitting on the end and doesn't have anyone on his left side to block Jinyoung from getting close to him. Jinyoung doesn't say anything to him as he pours the wine, focusing on the way the dark red wine fills the immaculately clean glass. Just when he's about to pull away, Jaebum puts a hand on the neck of the wine bottle, forcing him to pour more of it.
A little annoyed, Jinyoung says quietly, "if you finish the bottle you're going to have to pay for the whole thing instead of just a glass."
He can feel Jaebum's dark eyes on the side of his face, and the short, quiet laugh Jaebum gives him feels condescending. "I don't think that's going to be a problem."
His irritation grows. At first, he was entirely intimidated by him and embarrassed about what happened, but so far tonight, all of their interactions have left Jinyoung increasingly more annoyed by the older man's attitude. He wonders if Jaebum is anyone terribly important and fleetingly wonders if he'd be able to get away with "accidentally" spilling wine on his crisp, well-fitting dove grey suit. Seeming to further increase Jinyoung's annoyance is the fact that he notices that the particular cut and color of Jaebum's suit looks good on him.
Jinyoung doesn't say anything else, and he has to try really hard to not pull a face as he turns to place the wine back on the cart. The men finally all decide that they're ready to place their orders, and Jinyoung does another round as he tends to all of them one by one. As if picking up on the fact that Jaebum's eyeing him, they make him go last, and the other men have dissolved into overlapping conversations as Jaebum rattles off a long and complicated order.
He doesn't even bother writing half of it down, because he's been a server for almost four years and it's not that complicated of an order--with all the foreigners that come here, Jinyoung has had to deal with far worse. Jaebum seems to notice that Jinyoung stopped writing, because he looks up at him sharply. "Did you get all that?"
"Yes, ahjussi ."
" Ahjussi?" Jaebum says, almost like he's offended. "I'm barely thirty four."
He can't help it. "Fascinating," he says, monotone, and Jaebum looks surprised. Jinyoung feels himself redden slightly but doesn't apologize. "Is that all, ahjussi?"
Jaebum's just staring at him with an unreadable expression on his handsome face, and Jinyoung's starting to get uncomfortable with their intense eye contact when Jaebum finally sighs and breaks it. "Refill this," he says, tapping the rim of his now empty wine glass with fingers adorned with the same heavy rings Jinyoung saw in the coffee shop. If he purposely leaves off "please", Jinyoung doesn't acknowledge it. Equally as purposefully, Jinyoung barely fills it to the bare minimum. Jaebum's turned away from him and is immersed in conversation with the older man sitting next to him and doesn't notice, so Jinyoung takes the time to put the wine back on the cart and slip out of the room with their orders.
Free again, he leans on the barrier between the kitchen and the server's station while he waits for the chef to come over. Mark finally pops up a few moments later, grinning widely when he sees Jinyoung waiting.
"Jinyoungie," he says, and his wide smile and silky voice making Jinyoung's heart flutter. Jackson's been asking him if he has a crush on Mark for the past four years, and he always says No, are you crazy, we work together, besides he's straight to which Jackson would always answer with an obscene wiggle of his eyebrows and a sultry How do you know? Regardless of whether he's denying a crush or not, Mark is still the person he's closest to at the restaurant, and he wouldn't have it any other way. "Got some orders for me?"
"Yes," he says, sighing. He slides the order slips forward, shuffling through them to find Jaebum's and separates it. He taps it impatiently. "This one's annoying."
Mark laughs. "The person or the order?"
He pulls a face. "Both."
"Fantastic," Mark says, and Jinyoung's heartbeat speeds up when Mark leans an elbow on the barrier between them, their arms a hairsbreadth away from each other. "What's annoying about it?"
Jinyoung rattles off all the modifications from memory, Mark nodding every so often until he's done. Mark lets out a low whistle when he finally finishes, giving Jinyoung a look. "Sounds fussy."
"He is," Jinyoung says, but then decides that he can't really say that since he doesn't know the guy. "I spilled coffee on him a few weeks ago."
Mark laughs again, turning when someone calls his name from the kitchen. They ask him for the orders from the Room, and Mark slides them off the counter and hands them over before turning back to him. "Please elaborate."
"I'm surprised you haven't heard this already," Jinyoung says, resting his cheek in his hand. "Everyone already knows about it."
"Oh, I have," Mark says, and he squeals a high-pitched laugh when Jinyoung reaches the barrier and hits him lightly on the shoulder. "I just want to hear it from the source."
He sighs like he's annoyed, but the way Mark is watching him with his chin resting in both hands like a school-girl listening to her crush has him cracking a wide smile. "It was the day I came all the way down here and didn't work, remember? When I left, I walked down to the coffee shop on the corner and was talking to the noona at the counter and didn't realize my shoe was untied, so when I turned around to walk away, I tripped on it. Hot coffee went everywhere, all over his suit and shoes and the floor. Burnt the shit out of my wrist, too, but the guy was too concerned with his shoes to notice. He asked me to clean them for him, right there in line."
Bursting into laughter, Mark pats him comfortingly on the shoulder before standing up straight. "Ahh, I did know all that, but it was much funnier coming from you."
Childishly, Jinyoung sticks his tongue out at him and Mark does it back before turning and disappearing back into the depths of the kitchens, leaving him to go back to tend to their guests.
When he gets back to the Room, he's barely made it to the door when he can already hear all their loud voices from outside. Worried, he comes in quickly and shuts the door quietly, hurrying to to the table to see what the commotion is all about when he realizes that they'd just broken into
all
of the bottles of wine instead of the one. There's eight or nine wine glasses scattered around the table, everyone's glass full almost to the brim with every color wine on the spectrum. Jinyoung can't help but wonder what
kind
of business meeting this is with everyone getting piss drunk before their food even arrives.
One of the nicer ahjussis beckons to him, and he walks over and stands a polite distance away as the man leans dangerously far out of his seat toward him. "Park Jinyoung, you said?"
"Yes, that's me."
The man's furry grey eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "So young to own a place so renowned."
It takes him a second, but he realizes that the man is assuming he's the Park Jinyoung, and he's immediately backtracking. "Oh, no, no, no, that's not me. Park Jinyoung sunbae and I have the same name, but he owns the place."
He nods, and Jinyoung is suddenly uncomfortable with everyone's eyes on him, especially Jaebum's glare from his seat on the end. The ahjussi sways, and Jinyoung twitches like he's going to catch him from falling over when he rights himself. Laughing, he says, "well, please let Park Jinyoung sunbae know that he hires very polite and handsome servers."
The guy doesn't seem like he's hitting on him, but Jinyoung laughs awkwardly and bows anyway. "Thank you, ahjussi. I'll let him know."
Seemingly placated, the man nods at him and starts a loud conversation with the men across from him, and Jinyoung slips away. He's almost in the clear when he walks by Jaebum and feels the older man's hand close around his wrist and pull him back. Startled, Jinyoung stumbles into the back of Jaebum's chair, barely catching himself. "Yes, ahjussi?" he asks quietly, voice thin. Angrily, he yanks his arm out of Jaebum's grip, who lets him go easily.
There's a cool smugness to his features that Jinyoung
really
wants to slap off his face. His voice, when he speaks, is low. "He's right, you know."
His heart skips a beat. There's no way that Jaebum is going to hit on him, is there? He starts to pray rapidly in his head that Jaebum just says something about Park Jinyoung sunbae and lets him go, but then he watches as Jaebum's eyes rake up and down his body. It's lazy, like a cat stretching and extending its claws after just waking up, but it's predatory in a way that makes him fidget. He's not even wearing anything nice--just the crisp white button down and black, form fitting slacks of his uniform.
Suddenly nervous, Jinyoung looks over the top of his head instead of right at him. "About what?"
"About Park Jinyoung sunbae hiring handsome servers. If only they were less clumsy, as well."
There's a sharp grin on the older man's face, and Jinyoung reddens like he'd been chastised. The nervousness fades as it dawns on him that Jaebum is making fun of him, and he has to really reign himself in as to not hit him. Jinyoung meets his eyes, anger only growing as Jaebum watches him with an infuriating, smug smirk. "I'll let him know," Jinyoung replies, tone clipped.
Jaebum seems unfazed by his sudden anger, and this only fans the flames. Jinyoung is about to say something ugly when he feels the pager in his apron pocket buzz, meaning he's needed in the kitchen. He turns to go without saying anything when Jaebum grabs him by the wrist again and pulls him back.
He yanks his arm from Jaebum's grip again, who's still watching him with a smug look. "Park Jinyoung sunbae wouldn't appreciate hearing about me getting manhandled by patrons, no matter how rich they are, so please do not grab me again," he says, and he feels triumphant when the apparent overconfidence on Jaebum's face slips momentarily.
Jaebum leans back and drapes one arm over the back of the chair where he's half turned toward him in it, legs spread. He looks like every cocky, uptight, spoiled rich boy in every club he's ever been to, and Jinyoung refrains from rolling his eyes. "You can call me Jaebum-ssi."
Jinyoung bristles. The term implies a certain level of familiarity, and he has no interest whatsoever in being familiar with Jaebum in any other way than spilling his coffee all over him, which Jinyoung now thinks he deserves. Jinyoung just looks at him, a smile plastered across his face that hopefully looks as fake as it feels. "No, thank you. I have to check on the food now. Anything else, ahjussi?" He places enough emphasis on the last word to really make it stick, and he feels inherently satisfied when Jaebum is dismissive and turns away from him.
Good riddance, he thinks to himself, and leaves the room, pretending that he can't feel Jaebum's eyes on his back the entire way.
The rest of the night serving the Room almost goes painlessly. Almost.
After he comes back with their food, he hangs around against the walls, not engaging anyone in conversation but being available when someone needs something. He tunes out most of their business talk, the lingo and technical banter uninteresting to him and therefore not worth listening to. Jaebum rarely says anything, and Jinyoung can't help but watch him when he does. There's a quiet sort of power within him, all eyes on him when he speaks, regardless of being the youngest person in the group by what Jinyoung assumes is probably handful of years. His handsomeness is intimidating, and his demeanor demands a certain level of respect and attention that the men around him give freely and without complaint, despite all being older. Jinyoung wonders, then, if Jaebum is their boss, and he feels surprised. He starts listening a little more closely, hoping someone will slip Jaebum's last name into their conversation. It's hard to pay attention when most of it is boring business talk about things Jinyoung doesn't have any interest in, like stocks and investments and branches, but then one of the older men is roaring with laughter after Jaebum says something funny.
"Im Jaebum," the man says, wiping his eyes. "You're too much. Your father would be proud."
Jinyoung, standing against the wall, goes completely still. Im Jaebum? It's not exactly an uncommon name, so he could theoretically be anyone , but there's a sinking feeling in his gut that's telling him that it's the Im Jaebum. As in, the Im Jaebum that owns half of the entertainment industry in South Korea, inherited after his father passed away some years ago. That would make him the Im Jaebum, the youngest, richest man in the country.
Almost as if he can hear Jinyoung's thoughts, Jaebum suddenly catches his eye from across the room. They just stare at each other for a second, Jinyoung too surprised to move--he can't believe he didn't make the connection sooner; Jaebum's picture has been plastered all over the papers for years, and the guy is constantly on the news for some untraditional business practice that has him just raking in money year after year. The tabloids never really interested him, though, and he rarely watches the news; he only knows this because of the long, droning recaps his mother gives him over the phone when he feels bored enough to call. Jinyoung breaks the eye contact first, looking over his head like the wall has something more interesting to look at. He suddenly wishes that Park Jinyoung sunbae would have put the god-awful impressionist paintings he loves so much up in here, after all.
Jinyoung busies himself with refilling everyone's drinks, laughing and smiling and making little quips where appropriate, but he gets purposefully stoic when he reaches Jaebum. He feels his pager buzz in his apron pocket, and the sudden motion surprises him. His hand jerks involuntarily, and some of the wine he's pouring splashes onto the table instead of the wine glass. No one else except Jaebum seems to notice, and he curses under his breath as he reaches into his pocket to grab a dishtowel. Jaebum's eyes burn a hole in the side of his head as he cleans up the spill, and it makes him increasingly more frustrated to the point where he breaks and looks over expectantly.
"Can't wait to spill something else on me, huh?" Jaebum says, eyes half lidded and voice thick with alcohol.
Jinyoung rolls his eyes. "Ha, ha."
Jaebum cracks a smile then, the first one Jinyoung's ever seen on his face, and he hates how pleasing it is to look at. His attention is momentarily divided when one of the men behind him declares that they're all finished and are ready for the check, to be split eight ways. Turned away from him, Jinyoung guiltily admires the curve of his neck as he waves an arm and says, "no, no, it's on me tonight, gentleman, I thank you for your time and for your business," before turning back to look up at him. The smile returns, looking real. Jinyoung swallows.
"Check, please."
The way he says it isn't demanding, but rather teasingly, and Jinyoung makes a face. He's glad that Jaebum is drunk when the older man laughs quietly at him, and that he probably won't remember this part of their conversation. Jinyoung disappears to the server's station to tally up their check, and he lets out a low whistle when he sees how much it is.
"Wow, all that for one person?" someone says behind him, and Jinyoung turns slightly to see Choi Youngjae behind him, drying his hands on a dishtowel.
"Hi, Youngjae-yah," Jinyoung says, and is comforted when Youngjae comes up behind him and rests his chin on Jinyoung's shoulder to read the Room's check.
"Nearly 900,000 won?!" Youngjae says in surprise, and Jinyoung laughs.
Jinyoung prints out the check, flapping it playfully in the younger boy's direction. "You made all their food, you should know why it's so expensive."
"I didn't make all of it!" Youngjae yelps, grabbing at the receipt and childishly flashing his tongue when Jinyoung pulls it out of his reach. "Mark's head chef, I'm just the apprentice. I don't make everything, you know this."
Patting his pockets down to make sure he has a pen, he shoves the receipt into his apron. "True, but I know Mark believes in you and trusts your skill, so I know you made a lot more than you're giving yourself credit for." Jinyoung smiles affectionately when Youngjae blushes. "They loved it, by the way."
Youngjae just hits him playfully on the shoulder, abandoning the dishtowel on the counter. "Don't you have a check to give to someone? Get out of here."
Jinyoung makes his way back to the Room with a small smile on his face, knowing that as soon as he's done processing Jaebum's credit card, he's free to go. They'll have someone else bus the table and clean the room, which is a blessing. If there's a stain on the table from where he spilled the wine, he doesn't want to see it.
When he gets back to the Room, all the men have gone except Jaebum. He's sitting alone at the table, cheek resting in his palm and staring absentmindedly at the plates stacked up in the middle of the table. The lights from above him cast shadows across his face in a way that makes him look even more aesthetically pleasing, which Jinyoung didn't even think was possible. Jaebum is so lost in his own world that he doesn't hear Jinyoung approach, and Jinyoung has to reach out and gently touch his shoulder to get his attention.
"Ahjussi," he says quietly, and pulls his hand away when Jaebum jumps.
"You scared me," he says, voice still slurred, and Jinyoung hopes like hell there's a cab waiting outside for him. "Very quiet, Park Jinyoung."
He doesn't know what to say to that, since he came in at the same volume he always has, so he just holds out the receipts for Jaebum to sign. The older man takes them, their fingers brushing, and Jaebum looks at him with a gaze so intense that Jinyoung looks away. Clearing his throat, Jaebum spreads the receipts out on the table. "Which one is mine?" he asks, like it matters.
Jinyoung leans forward and politely taps the one under his left hand. "This one."
Jaebum signs the other one, placing it as neatly as he can back into the receipt book Jinyoung had handed him. Jinyoung's about to ask for his pen back when Jaebum reaches into his inside jacket pocket and pulls out a gorgeous, maroon leather wallet. He flips through it for a second, looking for something, and then he's pulling out a small, white card and laying it face down on the table. He scribbles on it quickly, looking at it for a moment before deciding he's apparently satisfied and clicking the pen shut. Without looking at him, Jaebum holds the card out.
"Am I supposed to take that?" He asks, looking at the card in between two of Jaebum's fingers disdainfully.
Looking over, Jaebum cocks an eyebrow. "Yes."
Jinyoung wants to make a smart remark, but he just plucks the card out of Jaebum's hand in curiosity. His fears are confirmed when the lightly embossed front of the card reads IM JAEBUM, CEO across the front with a website and business email in the lower left corner. Flipping it over, he sees a phone number scribbled messily in blue ink.
He can't help it--he laughs. "You can't be serious."
Unfazed, Jaebum shrugs.
"You're giving your phone number to me? A stranger?"
"You're not that much of a stranger, are you?" he says, dark eyes searching Jinyoung's face. "Keep it. Just in case you ever want to make some real money."
Jinyoung freezes, hand in his pocket where he stuffed it at the very bottom. Jaebum doesn't seem like he's going to say anything else, standing up and shoving his wallet back in the inside pocket of his jacket without looking at him. He's in disbelief-- in case you ever want to make some real money-- what, like he's not making good enough money right now? He looks down at the number again, realizing that this is a personal phone number; there's no extension, so Im Jaebum must have just willingly handed over his cellphone number to Jinyoung saying "call me if you ever want to make some real money".
Is Jaebum insinuating he's a prostitute? That's definitely what he means, right?
Anger flares up in him at the audacity of the older man to just assume that he doesn't make enough to live being a server so he'd fuck for money . Jaebum is snapping in front of his face suddenly, and Jinyoung just stares at him in utter disbelief as Jaebum pulls some folded up bills from his pants pocket and counts it in front of him. He stops at 500,000 won, holding it out to Jinyoung.
"Here," he says, voice a little more steady but still clearly drunk on the bottles of wine they emptied.
"What is this?" Jinyoung asks, voice flat.
"A tip."
Disgusted, Jinyoung pushes Jaebum's hand toward him and declines it, angrily grabbing the signed receipt book up off the table and putting it in his apron. "Keep it," he says, not bothering to look up at Jaebum. "I don't need your phone number for booty calls and I don't need your money, either."
Jaebum still stands there, money in hand. "Wha--"
Cutting him off, Jinyoung bows politely. "Thank you, Mr. Im, and goodnight."
He leaves the room, inexplicably angry at someone he barely knows, letting the door slam shut on Jaebum's reply.